Water to Water
by Mitsima
Summary: A theory on who Tenpou's former general was before Kenren came along.


_Water to Water_  
by Mitsima

I don't want to scare you;  
after death there are two alternatives,  
both heartless:  
memory & forgetfulness

-Jon Anderson

I.

Shien woke up to the smell of cigarette smoke at his bedside and the whispering sound made by a finger running across the pages of a book. He wondered how long Tenpou had been taking care of him. A week, maybe. It had been a difficult battle and he could remember very little of it, only that they had been outnumbered and that he thought he was going to die down there.

During peaceful moments like this Shien liked to feign sleep, and with the bandages over his eyes it wasn't so difficult. It was only a matter of breathing softly, deeply. Because sometimes Tenpou would read aloud to himself with a private voice reserved only for his books, filled with so much childlike absorption that Shien couldn't help but feel comforted. As long as Tenpou still read like that, things were fine. It was the voice that kept time moving steadily forward.

Tenpou stopped reading when footsteps approached.

"So you won't do it, I see," said Goujun flatly.

Shien was slightly shaken with his tone, but kept still. Tenpou on the other hand, seemed unfazed. "No sir."

"Surely I can find you someone else. What is the use of having a blind general? "

"I'd rather you refrain from doing such a thing, sir."

"So the rumors..."

"Were on the truer end of things."

"I see." Goujun didn't sound the least bit surprised.

Shien didn't know how he knew it, but the dragon king was looking straight at him. Those red eyes boring through the bandages and lodging in the weakest part of his heart as if to reaffirm what Tenpou had already confessed. Surely now there was no need to fake slumber, but for Tenpou's sake- no, for his own, if Goujun needed to say something, he had better do it now.

"Well, I doubt Shien is as foolish as his marshal. He will realize his limitations and resign lest he put you in danger. To retain his position would be an act of pure irresponsibility," Goujun emphasized 'pure irresponsibility' and made sure Shien knew who he was really talking to.

Tenpou went to refute, but thought against it. It was useless to argue with a dragon, much less someone who was his superior. "He is a soldier, sir. Where do you think he would go?"

"I'll make arrangements. There is one army in Heaven that can accommodate him."

Something in the room snapped right then and Tenpou's voice went deathly low. "The only army where the soldiers don't fight, you mean. I cannot allow that."

"Could you stop him if he decides this on his own? Be sensible Tenpou. You can't babysit a cripple forever, with only two good eyes between you."

Harsh as Goujun was, he was right. What use is a general if he cannot properly execute his duties? Shien knew this very well, and so the idea of resigning wasn't such a difficult decision- one Tenpou should not be forced to impose himself.

_In all honesty, maybe it would have been better if Tenpou had left me to..._

"I don't know what you're thinking," Tenpou said when Goujun left, his voice again private, again intimate. "But it can't be good. So stop thinking."

Shien felt Tenpou's lips lightly close in over his. _This,_ Shien told himself, raising his bandaged hand to touch the other's cheek. _This will be the last time._ Because he had no place by Tenpou's side if he could not protect him.

He would resign tomorrow. And so tomorrow came and he resigned. Time passed. Then another tomorrow came. Then another general, then a series of events Shien could not prevent as everything slowly unfolded into destruction.

Then Tenpou died.

II.

Five hundred years would pass before he found Tenpou again. The death that shook heaven, that lifted the dust and created a cloud so suffocating Shien couldn't stand being there anymore. The day that Tenpou died, he escaped to the Under Heaven and stood under the rain for hours, waiting for it to wash away the memory of his Marshal's spilt blood. Shien could only wonder why Tenpou remained so calm, knowing what he did and doing what he did. It seemed as if Tenpou were waiting for such a fate to come upon him, and so embraced the role of a maniac martyr, censored from the collective memory of Heaven.

No one but Shien to grieve over his Marshal, over the little catatonic doll that was Nataku. And he knew his own cruel fate, needing to be needed and not existing otherwise. It felt as if he were falling and waiting for the air to catch him.

Shien found Tenpou's reincarnation in a backwater town that seemed to sag under the weight of a sky just about ready to rip open with a storm. There he was, crumpled on his knees, grabbing his waist with one arm and in the other was a bag of groceries that had all but emptied out onto the ground. Tenpou cursed quietly through his teeth, _I'm so weak,_ and with every word cursing the man he was.

To think that this used to be the most dangerous man in Heaven.

_To remember the man you once were,_ Shien thought, _it would certainly kill you._ And he stooped down to pick up the fallen groceries. He took the bag into his own arms before offering out his hand. "Let us get you home before it rains."

"It hurts too much," the man said. "Can't move...must've reopened."

"Nonsense. The memory of the injury is what keeps you from moving. The best thing for you now is to get your bandages changed."

"But I can't...and Gojyo's...he's most likely with a woman tonight..."

_Kenren. Of course._

"Who ever said you were going to do it all yourself?" Shien chided and grabbed the hand that was never offered. Before the man even had time to think about what was happening, they were both making their way through the town. Their feet sunk into the dirt road softened by the season's early rains.

Shien felt as if he were doing something right for once, something he should have done a long time ago. If he had, then Tenpou would probably have returned his grip, the way this stranger was doing now. He never should have left.

"I assume you have a name," Shien said as they walked.

"Cho Gonou."

"So you don't remember me, Cho Gonou?" The truth was that he had heard the name just recently as it was whispered through Heaven's empty hallways. The man who slaughtered a thousand youkai. _You don't think it's...do you? But who else would it be?_ It was enough to prove that Tenpou still held a silent legacy there.

"Are you from the orphanage?"

"If by orphanage you mean a place where I waited to leave until I left, then you can say that we came from the same place."

"I assume _you_ have a name."

To which Shien replied, "Yes. I do." And left it at that.

It was a good enough answer for this Cho Gonou, who was about to say something more until the sight of Shien's bandages finally caught his eye. He quickly silenced himself. It was as if he were walking next to his own image. Everyone wants to hide their scars...

The sound of Shien's voice broke through his thoughts. "I can only see the outlines of things, you know. And only when there is a lot of sunlight. I'm blind otherwise. Since it's so cloudy today, you will have to tell me where to go."

"Over there. Just straight on this path and we'll be there soon," replied Gonou with a wry smile. "Don't we make a sad pair? The blind leading the blind with only one good eye between the two of us. I was born with sight in one eye. The other one's just been sitting there as useless as a rock."

"Indeed," Shien bit his lip. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." But the truth was that he was practically drunk with pain. He was dizzy, not walking straight and trying not to pass out until he actually _did._ The last thing he remembered was someone scooping him up and the sound of a door being kicked open.

Then came the oddest, most embarrassing dream. Him and the man who wouldn't say his name, both of them beneath the sheets, touching each other and kissing fiercely. He tangled his hands in the other's hair, so soft it must have been subject to periodic brushing. And the heat of their bodies, the taste of his skin, and their sweat- Gonou thrust into him over and over again, grunting that name he swore he never heard before.

"Yes?"

Suddenly Gonou woke up, the world instantly coming into sharp focus. He was sitting upright on his bed, shirt off and staring out the window. The view outside looked so bleak it felt as if he were sitting at the edge of the universe. "W...What?"

"Nothing. You were muttering a bit and I thought I heard my name. I was most likely mistaken," even though he most likely was not, but instead of complicating things for his former marshal he held his tongue and continued wrapping that last layer of bandage. "Does it still hurt?"

"Not anymore. Thank you," Gonou replied with as much composure as he could muster. He needed to calm his breathing. His heart must have been beating faster than normal. As for the rest of his body...Gonou preferred not to think what was happening.

"That's good."

Though it did amuse Shien how this Cho Gonou had woken up incredibly flushed and slightly winded. He must have been dreaming of something pleasant. Of course, he knew there was one way to test the depths of Tenpou's amnesia. Surely the body would remember something. And so he placed a light kiss on Gonou's right shoulder, letting his lips linger there for a moment before drawing back and gauging the other's reaction.

Gonou went stiff, his hands automatically clutching at the sheets beneath him.

_Interesting,_ Shien thought. With no word telling him to stop, he continued with the little things he knew Tenpou liked, touching the places which would relax him best. Somewhere in this intimate silence _Tenpou's_ memory started to respond and suddenly all of the confusion in Gonou's mind was suddenly whisked away.

Nothing about it felt strange to Gonou- the feel of the stranger's lips behind his neck and the hands that lay over his stomach, gently strumming the thick layer of gauze. Like water to water, his back against the other's chest where he could barely make out the most quiet of heartbeats. The mouth on his neck moved on to the back of his ear..._I should really ask his name_...a hand around his waist tightening ever so slightly while the other reached farther down to a part of him that could care less about names.

Then it was there between his legs, knowing just what to do and Gonou arched back, his breath hitching and mind reeling, wondering whether or not he had just been plunged back into that heady dream from before.

"This is different," Shien murmured against his neck, slightly disappointed. He wasn't used to initiating things. "Maybe I have the wrong person? What do you think?"

"I think...I..." He wanted more, but could not think to ask, even as the buttons of his pants were undone and Shien reached beneath the fabric to verify that yes, there was need.

The way Gonou's hand shot out behind him to untie Shien's ribbons was enough proof that Tenpou was still somewhere in the depths of his reincarnation's consciousness.

"I think you're thinking too much," Gonou finally managed. His breathing had gone ragged.

And Gonou himself felt it welling up inside of him, beside the passion and the frustration of wanting to be so much closer. It felt like a far off memory, though he knew well enough it never could have happened. Then it was a dream, he concluded. He was dragging this nameless stranger from a gruesome battlefield. Blood streamed from the man's arms and torso. And his eyes. What a chilling memory, Gonou thought; enough to make him feel cold even as the heat of what was happening to him came rushing over his senses, washing away all thought and with it the memory. And with it the stranger.

When he woke up it was already morning and he was alone. Well, no. Not completely alone. Soon enough Gojyo came barging in, hair tousled and slightly hung-over. A few steps into the house and he retreated again to wiggle the door. "What the hell? Did you get locked out or something? The knob's broken."

"I guess I must have kicked it down."

"Wasn't it you who hid the spare key under the front stone just in case something like this happened?" Gojyo looked at him hard, squinting his eyes in the morning light as if it hurt just to have them open. He must have found something because he quickly changed the course of the interrogation. "Were you drinking without me?"

"I must have been," Gonou was thankful that he was spared from explaining what he himself couldn't understand. The only thing left for him to do was continue living. He would run through the motions of the comfortable life he had set up for himself with a man who never asked difficult questions. "You're dehydrated, Gojyo. Drink some water. I'll have breakfast ready in a minute."

As he was taking out the plates, Gonou looked out the window. There were puddles everywhere. He had missed out on the storm and he thanked the gods that he was spared at least one dreadful rainy night. Seeing everything drenched in sunlight, he felt just the slightest bit lighter, as if sometime during the night a few stones were removed from the mountain of guilt weighing down on his heart. It was enough to almost make him feel happy, if only for a little while.

Gojyo raised an eyebrow when his roommate suddenly pushed open the creaky window. A cool breeze wafted in, bringing with it the smell of a wet earth.

"What the hell are you smiling about all of a sudden?"

"They say it's good for the body to inhale the air right after a storm," Gonou replied simply.

Over the smooth surface of the kitchen counter, the shadows of the trees outside swayed gently like placated ghosts.

---

Zenon found him amidst a sea of books and scrolls- Tenpou's abandoned library. Sunlight streamed through the windows and illuminated the dust motes as they floated silently with no particular destination, rising up when a wind blew and resting on a still space before the next gust.

Shien sat at Tenpou's cluttered desk, flipping through a book he couldn't read and running his fingers over the pages. Nothing rotted in Heaven, and so it was just as well that Shien was practically blind. Nothing in the room had changed, not once in five hundred years. The cigarettes in the ashtray even looked as if they had been put out only an hour ago.

Time did not exist here, while down below it hobbled about on crutches, just about ready to cave in on itself yet somehow finding a way to keep crawling forward.

"You're a fucking character, you know that?" Zenon snorted. "Always picking at the scab."

"I am saying a proper goodbye, if you don't mind. I realize that there isn't much I can offer him now, just as before." But at least, Shien thought, at least he had paid the one debt he truly owed Tenpou.

"Can't you just offer a prayer or something? Burn some incense, ring a bell. I hate this sentimental shit."

"You always did. But what's the use of prayers here?" Shien asked, closing the book and standing. "It's just like breathing in the same air you just breathed out."

Zenon shrugged and nervously shoved a cigarette into his mouth. "Whatever. Are you ready to go now? This place really gives me the creeps for some reason." He picked up the nearest lighter, but when he realized who it belonged to Zenon dropped it and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, muttering beneath his breath. _Flint's probably shot to hell anyway._

The library was still as a crypt when they shut the doors and walked away. Through the hallway with its closed windows and cold marble- until a breeze from behind suddenly swept across the floor and ruffled the edge of Shien's robe. They froze. It came from Tenpou's room.

"Zenon?"

"What?" he snapped, more than just a little freaked out.

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

"Hell yeah."

"Hmm..." Shien smiled to himself. "Me too."

He knew it then, that something would soon happen. It will come to sweep them away from where they were. Even in the Under Heaven. Son Goku had been freed by Konzen, now Genjo Sanzo, and something dark was brewing in the west. A strange wind was pushing them all towards the setting sun, their shadows stretching out behind them as lingering witnesses to what could never be salvaged. Their old selves stained the floors of history.

Tenpou had read a certain passage to Shien many times before, from a book he would never open again. It was that same book Shien held in his hands when Zenon had walked in on him.

_This is how one pictures the angel of history. His face is turned toward the past. Where we perceive a chain of events, he sees one single catastrophe which keeps piling wreckage and hurls it in front of his feet. The angel would like to stay, awaken the dead, and make whole what has been smashed. But a storm is blowing in from Paradise; it has got caught in his wings with such a violence that the angel can no longer close them. The storm irresistibly propels him into the future to which his back is turned, while the pile of debris before him grows skyward._

Perhaps it was their destiny, to get carried away with it all.

III.

After Homura's defeat, it was Goku who made them despite the fact that there were no bodies to bury. There were, however, other matters of the heart to lay to rest.

Hakkai looked down at the three gravestones, shabby and sitting atop nothing but dirt and a distant memory, vague as a dream. He wondered if he should offer something of a prayer before traveling once more, but who would hear it? When one offered prayers for the dead, those uttered words reached the gods, and for some reason he didn't want Heaven to know what he wanted to say. Or rather, _it wasn't their business._

So he stilled his hands before they managed to clasp in front of his heart, and let them fall. Hakkai wished to apologize for his own wretched victory, but there was nothing left to say that wasn't already said in battle, he concluded. Though he wasn't sure Shien would have wanted to hear it from him. Tenpou Gensui's voice would be sure to reach him, but not Cho Hakkai's, not likely. After all, he was only less than human, holding in his palm the scraps of someone else's intimate moments as they floated to the surface of his mind.

A swiftly passing flock of birds intercepted the sunlight, their shadows skimming the ground below Hakkai's feet and the surface of the three unmarked graves. They passed into his faceless silhouette, like water to water, before moving on. They agreed at least on this. Everyone wants to save what they could not protect. Hollow men, desperate men- like water to water. Everyone wants to hide the scars caused by their failures.

Though he did say this: "You certainly have a way of making your absence felt." And he headed back to where the others would surely be waiting, impatient and hungry. There was still a long way to go, no time for prayers, and no way to carry the dead with him even in spirit.

The sun was beginning to set. Hakkai knew it then, that there was nothing left for him to say and no one else left for him to be. The memories of back then and the god in Heaven who was Tenpou Gensui- all of it was just a silhouette of the man he was now, a shadow cast into the sky by the light of his own heart.


End file.
